“Don’t give me that plaintive look. Work comes before pleasure. I’ll have one of the under maids bring you something. The unpacking and mending must take precedence.”
“Yes, Miss Miller.”
Miss Dougard gave Annie a sympathetic look but showed her true allegiance by leaving for tea without fighting on her behalf.
The benefit of their departure was a chance to sit down. Annie fell into a brocade chair near the fireplace and closed her eyes. With all the family occupied on the ground floor and all the servants in the basement, the lone sound was the ticktock of the mantel clock.
Annie hadn’t enjoyed silence since they’d left England. On the ship they’d endured the constant undulating pulse of the engine. Now she could only hear the occasional horse or automobile going by outside. The wide avenue in front of the Friesen mansion was a world away from the chaotic streets they’d passed through earlier.
Her mind raced, wanting to take advantage of the quiet, wanting to land on a peaceful thought that would offer rest. But in its racing it created an inner racket of to-dos and should-dos until Annie had no choice but to sit upright and address it. Yes, yes. To work.
She decided the unpacking should be attended to first, as there would be large heapings of trouble if she was found altering the dress when the bedrooms were in disarray. Once Miss Henrietta’s belongings were in place, Annie moved to the bedroom of the viscountess. It was larger than the daughter’s and had a small alcove assigned as a closet. There were only two gowns hung up, so Annie set to work. She was just about to move her ladyship’s underthings from trunk to bureau when there was a knock. “Come in.”
Danny appeared in the doorway holding a tray. “Tea is served, milady.”
She laughed and curtsied then pointed to a table next to a chair. “Over there, if you please.”
He set it down, and she saw it was indeed a pot of tea and three biscuits. The sight of them ignited her hunger and she fell into a chair. “You are a godsend.” She poured a cup then wolfed down two of the biscuits in short fashion. Annie noticed the boy was still standing and had the most enjoyable twinkle in his eye. “Thank you for bringing me the tea, Danny—and the biscuits.” When he didn’t make a motion to move, she said, “Dare you sit with me a minute?”
“I’m always up for a dare.” He claimed a seat. “And over here, they’re called cookies.”
Annie acknowledged the bit of information with a nod. “Did you miss your tea to bring me mine?”
“I volunteered.” He stretched out on the chair enough for his hand to reach deep into his pocket. He pulled out his own three cookies. “But don’t worry a smudge about me. I never miss a chance to eat.”
“You sound like my little brother,” Annie said. Her thoughts clouded. “You remind me a lot of Alfred. He was just your age….”
“Was?”
“He died.”
“Sorry,” the boy said through a mouthful of biscuit. Cookie. “What’d he die of?”
“His appendix burst.”
“Sounds awful. Were you close?”
“We were. But let’s talk about happier things.”
“I’ll do my best.” Danny stuffed a cookie in his mouth, tried to talk, but ended up coughing. Crumbs spurted all over the carpet. Annie offered him some tea, and as soon as he was in control, he knelt on the floor to pick up the crumbs. “How long have you worked for the Kidds?”
“Five years. When I was fourteen I got a job at Crompton Hall. Ma and Pa didn’t approve, but I did it anyway.”
“Why wouldn’t they approve? Being in service is a good thing—if there’s no other thing, that is.”
“There wasn’t any other thing,” Annie said. “My parents were always complaining about what they didn’t have and how life wasn’t fair. It was always someone else’s fault. If the hen laid two extra eggs they complained it wasn’t three.” She took a breath. “I grew weary of it. I wanted to prove to them that there was more to be had if a person went after it.”
“I’m betting they were proud of you.”
She smoothed her skirt, as if making the fabric nice would make her memories the same. “They said I was nutters to try.”
“But working for a highborn family like the Kidds … that’s something.”
“They didn’t think of it that way.” Annie remembered an incident to illustrate her mother’s disdain for all those who had what she didn’t. “One time the Kidds drove by in a fine carriage and everyone in the village stopped what they were doing and bowed and tipped their hats and such. Ma got peeved about it and said it didn’t seem fair, them having everything and us having next to nothing.” Annie adopted her mother’s voice. “‘I’d like to see them wash clothes or mend a fence.’ But I saw it differently. I said it was good the Kidds didn’t do those tasks, because it meant they had to pay us to do them. We had jobs because of them.”
“What’d she say to that?”
“She said, ‘Whose side are you on?’” Annie sighed. “I suppose my parents are one of the reasons I want to be a lady’s maid. Maybe then they’ll be proud of me.”
“But you’re not a lady’s maid.”
“Not yet.”
“Have the Kidds said you can rise up someday?”
“They implied it.”
“But you’re just a housemaid.”
He was squashing her dream, and she didn’t like it. “I came in as an under housemaid just to get my foot in. And now I’m an upper. I worked hard to earn that title.”
“But you’re still just a housemaid.”
“This from a hall boy?”
Danny fell back in his chair and popped a handful of crumbs into his mouth. “I’m not going to be a hall boy forever.”
I would hope not. “What are you to be, then?”
“An adventurer.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “Do you have any specific adventure in mind?”
“I’m open to whatever comes my way. I refuse to jiggy up my life by making hard ’n’ fast plans.”
“You’re a chancer.” When he gave her an odd look, she explained, “You take risks.”
“That’s me. Wild and free. Free in spirit now, and free in body eventually.”
“So you do have a plan.”
He hopped to his feet, raising his right fist to the sky. “I plan to be deliriously happy!”
“You make me happy. You make me laugh.”
He turned his declaration into a bow. “Then the main task of my day is successfully completed.”
Task completed … Annie remembered all the tasks yet to complete. She drank the rest of her tea, put a cookie in her apron pocket, and handed Danny the tray. “I have to get back to work.” As he headed to the door, she asked, “By the way, where did you take my satchel? Where is my room?”
“In the attic, milady. Where all captive princesses reside.”
She returned to her work, feeling rejuvenated by the food and the friendship.
The unpacking was complete, the alterations to Miss Henrietta’s dress finished, and the dress worn to dinner. While the Kidds and Friesens enjoyed an after-dinner brandy in the drawing room, the servants had a short window of time for their own supper.
Upon seeing the bowls of beef, potatoes, beans, and bread that were spread upon the dinner table in the servants’ hall, Annie’s stomach growled loudly.
A footman standing close by grinned. “That’s pleasant.”
“I apologize for my stomach’s anticipation.”
He leaned close—too close—and whispered. “If you need anything, you call me. Grasston’s the name. Got it, pretty filly?”
She got it. And rejected it. There was something about Grasston that made her want to be wherever he was not.
Annie waited to be told where to sit. At home there was a distinct seating chart, with the butler at the head, the housekeeper to his right, and the earl’s valet, the lady’s maids, and the first footmen next, followed through the ranks, ending with the kitchen m
aids and hall boy. Yet surely in democratic America, things would be different.
“You sit here, Miss Wood,” instructed the housekeeper as she walked past Annie’s seat to the head of the table, where she sat … to the right of the butler.
So much for democracy.
Annie settled in among the other housemaids and watched as the Misses took their places of honor at the other end. The situation made her feel oddly deflated. Hadn’t America fought against the British to gain their freedom? Why copy what was when you had the chance to create something new and better?
When all were settled, the butler stood. “We’d like to welcome our visitors, Miss Miller, Miss Dougard, and …” His eyes scanned the table for Annie. “And their helper, Miss …”
“Miss Wood, sir,” piped Danny.
“Yes, Mr. Dalking. I knew that.” The butler nodded at Annie. “Miss Wood. You are also welcome.”
She nodded, pleased at the extra attention—though with it came a crease between Miss Miller’s eyes.
“Very well, then,” the butler said. “Let us give thanks.”
As he led them in prayer, Annie caught Danny’s eye, mouthed Thank you, and received a wink in return.
If Annie could have climbed the stairs to the attic with her eyes closed, she would have done so. Every inch of her body ached and begged for sleep. If the steps weren’t so narrow and steep, she might have considered curling up right there.
But she didn’t dare close her eyes, for the stairs were shadowed and the upper landing scowled in darkness. She had searched for a light switch at the bottom of the stairs but had found none. Which was surprising. She accepted sporadic electrical upgrades back at the Kidds’ Crompton Hall that had been built in the 1700s, but she’d expected everything to be modern here.
When a figure appeared on the landing above, Annie nearly fell backward.
“So sorry,” the girl said. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” She held an oil lamp high. The odd shadows made her face appear years older than the young tenor of her voice. “I heard you coming. Sorry there’s no electricity up here. Guess they didn’t think those of us in the attic were worthy of the expense.”
“Us?”
“Just me anymore. They’ve taken to using the rest of the rooms for storage. Come on, I’ll show you to our room.”
Our room? Annie didn’t even have her own room?
“I’m Iris. I saw you at dinner. I’m Danny’s older sister. You’re Miss Wood, yes?”
“Annie.” She remembered seeing the towheaded girl, but they hadn’t spoken. As expected, supper conversation had been dominated by the butler, the Misses, and their American counterparts.
Annie leaned against the wall. “If you don’t mind. I’m knackered.” She nodded toward the attic.
“ ’Course. Silly me.”
Annie followed Iris to the first room on the right. It was like entering a cave. When Iris set the lamp on a dresser, it did little to improve Annie’s first impression.
“We do have us a window,” Iris said, displaying the curtained panes as though the darkness outside would benefit the darkness within. “ ’Course it ices in winter something awful, so I cover it with a quilt, but in summertime I’d suffocate without it.”
Sounds lovely.
Iris pointed to Annie’s satchel sitting against the wall. “I didn’t look inside. I promise.”
“Nothing to see,” Annie said as she moved the satchel to the only chair. She pulled out her nightgown.
“I emptied two hooks for you.”
Annie hung up her one day dress and her formal uniform. She looked around for a washstand.
“Sorry. There’s no water up here, neither. We have to share the bath with the female servants one floor down. But there is a pot.” From beneath the bed Iris pulled out a chamber pot with a nicked rim.
All the comforts of home.
Needing sleep more than modesty, Annie began to undress. She shook out the uniform she’d been wearing since … had they only arrived today? It seemed weeks had passed since they’d left the ship.
Iris also began to undress and hung her uniform on a hook behind the door. “At least it’s quiet up here.”
That it was. Too quiet and very different from the quiet she’d enjoyed earlier in the day. Here in the dark attic the silence surrounded her like an ominous fog. “It’s like we could be forgotten.”
“They shan’t forget us long. Not when they wake up and there’s pots to empty and grates to sweep.”
Annie decided to forgo washing her face, and she removed her corset, taking a full breath for the first time all day. She let the folds of her nightgown fall over her like a familiar shroud. “I’m glad I don’t have housecleaning duties while I’m here. I’m assisting Miss Miller and Miss Dougard.”
“How do you assist them?”
“I sew and mend for both the viscountess and Miss Henrietta.”
“Ain’t that a task for the lady’s maids?”
“They’re not very good at it. And I don’t mind because it’s making me indispensable and shows my mistresses that I can be a lady’s maid, too.”
“They’ll let you do that? Rise up from housemaid to lady’s?”
Annie slipped between the sheets and was grateful she didn’t have to share a pillow. “Miss Miller is over sixty. I’ve heard her talk about giving it up, and then Miss Dougard will rise from serving the daughter to the mother, leaving a space for me. At least I’m hoping that’s how it will work.”
“Hmm.” Iris sounded skeptical.
“Miss Miller is always complaining about the stairs and talks about going to live with a sister in Brighton. I’m not going to be a housemaid forever.”
Iris stood at her side of the narrow bed and braided her hair across her right shoulder. “I’m not, either.”
“Do you want to be a lady’s maid, too?”
“Not me. This world is too small, and I’m seventeen already. I want to work where I can meet people. I want to work in a shop.” She exploded the p with special emphasis.
Annie thought of the tiny shops in the village of Summerfield back home. None held any appeal. “What kind of shop?”
“It don’t matter to me, as long as I don’t have to clean it.” Iris pointed to the lamp. “Ready?”
Darkness swallowed the room.
Iris climbed into bed. When their hips touched they both moved an inch toward the edge. “ ’Night,” Iris said.
Yes, it was.
CHAPTER TWO
The preacher’s sermon echoed through the grand cathedral like the voice of God coming down from the heavens. Annie let her gaze move upward to the grandiose altar area with its brilliant stained-glass windows and intricately carved pulpit. The vaulted beams overhead captured the sounds of the service and returned them tenfold. Surely God lived in such a place. Their small country church back in England could fit inside this cathedral four times over. But as in England, the Kidds sat up front with the Friesens and other wealthy New Yorkers, while their servants sat in the back rows. Was the preacher talking to them first and the servants second? Or did his words rise toward God and the rafters, wrapping around them all equally?
Suddenly the preacher’s voice echoed loudly through the sanctuary. “‘Praise, O ye servants of the Lord, praise the name of the Lord! From the rising of the sun unto the going down of the same the Lord’s name is to be praised!’”
Danny leaned close. “Maybe after we get our work done.”
He received a shush from the housekeeper farther down in the pew. Yet his words rang true. The servants of the Friesens and the Kidds were up with the rising of the sun and worked until it set—if not long into the darkness. It was a daily burden. The preacher was saying that the Lord’s name was to be praised during all that? Annie had to admit she didn’t think much about God during the day. She said her prayers at night and had done her share of praising Him on the trip to New York, but as the to-dos of the day demanded her attention, thoughts of God seemed ve
ry far away.
The preacher finished, and the massive organ played the introduction to the final hymn. The congregation stood and they began to sing together: “‘Take my life and let it be consecrated, Lord, to Thee. Take my moments and my days, Let them flow in endless praise….’”
Praise. There it was again.
After finishing the midday meal, Annie stood on the basement stairs, staring out the small window on the landing. Rain pelted the glass.
“What’s wrong?” Danny asked, as he and Iris came close.
“We have a free afternoon, but it’s pouring. I hoped to see some of the city. I haven’t been outside this house other than church this morning.”
Brother and sister exchanged a glance and a grin. Then Iris took Annie’s hand. “Follow us.”
Annie expected them to detour on the main level, perhaps to some back covered stoop where they could bemoan the rain. Instead Iris led Annie up two more flights, to the attic. Annie hung back. “I’m sorry, but I don’t want to spend the day up in our room. There’s barely enough space to move around and—”
At the landing Danny edged past her and headed down the narrow attic hall. He swung open a door and stood aside, sweeping an arm to invite them in. “Enter, ladies!”
Iris went in first, running to a row of three dormer windows. “Welcome.”
Annie walked through an aisle created from discarded furniture and trunks. Near the window she discovered a space hollowed out among the Friesens’ discards, with two chairs framing a table, an oil lamp, a scattering of books, and an island of cushions, pillows, and coverlets on the floor. “What is all this?”
Danny flopped onto the cushions and immediately adjusted one under his head. “It’s our hideaway.”
Iris pointed to a chair and sat in the other one. “It was Danny’s doing. One Sunday afternoon he got me exploring the storerooms up here, and we had the idea of making a place for us to spend our free time.”
Annie scanned the room, which was larger by two than the bedroom she shared with Iris. “Why don’t they let us have this room as ours and put their leftovers in our room?”
The Pattern Artist Page 2
